The Logical Thing
by midnight inspiration
Summary: During a long and tedious drive home, sitting beside an untalkative and slightly frustrated Seeley Booth, Bones decides to read Cosmopolitan.


**Hey everyone. In my opinion, the hiatus from Bones is taking far too long, and I can't stand it anymore; I keep searching for spoilers but I don't want to read too much into them, so I took a break and wrote this. The quiz is from Cosmo's website. I hope you like it! **

**Disclaimer: Regrettably not mine. If only Booth was, though…**

* * *

Booth closed his cell phone with a loud snap, inadvertently waking up his partner, who had been sleeping quite comfortably in the seat beside him.

"There was an accident up ahead, Bones," he said, training his eyes on the road to conceal the irritation that was surely gracing his features. "I'm sorry, we should have taken the other route back to D.C."

"It's fine, Booth," she replied, and he froze for a moment at the sound of her voice, which was still husky from sleep. "I don't mind."

But he certainly did. In front of them seemed to be an endless expanse of highway, lined with rows of cars that glinted slightly in the distance, appearing to be hardly moving. The last remnants of the setting sun shone heatedly in the sky, making it difficult to keep his focus on the road ahead. He wished for what must have been the hundredth time that he had remembered his sunglasses, which sat conveniently on his bedside table at home.

She looked over at the man sitting next to her and studied his stoic expression for a few moments before concluding that he really wasn't in the mood for conversation, so she reached down and lifted up the purse which had been sitting at her feet. She rifled through her bag for a few moments, and eventually pulled out an issue of Cosmopolitan.

Settling back into her seat, she opened the magazine and leisurely flipped through a few pages before she felt his eyes on her, and she glanced over.

"What is it, Booth?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Uh -- nothing," he stammered, "just, _Cosmo?_ What happened to Dave Wade or whatever that guy's name was that you brought along for light reading?"

"Wade Davis?" she asked, grinning, "Well, to be honest, as interesting as his Massey Hall lectures are I find this equally as educational. In a different way, of course."

Well, _that _was unexpected. Temperance Brennan would never cease to surprise him. Booth contemplated for a moment about the astonishing fact that a woman could be as incredibly intelligent as her, so obtuse about pop culture, and yet be leafing through a Cosmo as if it were nothing, before he took the time to read the title of the article she was on. It was about lingerie. Shit.

She had glanced up just in time to catch him looking at the magazine, and a smirk played across her face. He refused to let any mental images of her wearing the lingerie that was being described pop into his mind, because he had a reputation to upkeep, and a road to watch.

_This is going to be a long drive, _he thought.

"So, do you want to order Thai when we get home?" she asked him, shooting a hopeful glance his way.

"I can't actually," he said, guilt seeping into his words, "I'm actually seeing someone tonight. Sorry, Bones."

She glanced back down at the magazine and shrugged casually, trying to disguise any hurt that may have been expressed outwardly on her face. "Oh, that's good. I thought you had Parker tonight, though?"

His kept his eyes focused on the road in front of them, and she heard him take a deep breath before he quietly replied, "Do you know what happened yesterday?"

She nodded, resting the magazine on her lap. "You and your team went into a man's apartment to make an arrest. Why? Did something happen, Booth?"

He looked over and his gaze met hers, and she tried to contemplate why he suddenly looked older, more tired.

"No," he said gently, "nothing happened that wasn't routine. We went in, he was sitting at his kitchen table, we asked him to put his hands up -- he shot at us, and I shot him."

"Did you kill him?"

"Yeah, I did," he replied, even quieter yet.

She hesitated, trying once again to understand. "Booth, that's a part of your job that you have to partake in quite frequently. What made this particular case out of the ordinary?"

"That's the thing, Bones," he muttered, "it wasn't out of the ordinary, at all. You're right, it's a necessary part of my job, the shooting, and I accepted it that way. It really shouldn't be, though. No _sane_ man would consider that normal. And then I spend every other waking moment beside you, so I never really do get away from my work, do I? I need to go out tonight. I need to stick to whatever shred of normalcy I can find in my life."

She could not recall a time when he had so blatantly expressed what was on his mind to her. Under normal circumstances, she would have appreciated the fact that he was being upfront with his thoughts; clearly, that was the logical way to discuss feelings and emotions. However, her heart ached the tiniest bit as she reflected on his words and the way he had said them, whether intentionally or not.

"I thought you enjoyed going out with me after a case," she said simply, her voice sounding small and restrained.

"I do, Bones," he replied, looking over at her and seeing the indifference on her face, "I enjoy every one of those moments I spend beside you."

"So why did you classify it as _work,_ then? You made that statement after just describing how much of a toll your career has had on your personal life. I understood that part, Booth. But what you just said…"

"Look, Bones, I have to think of it as work. I _have _to. If I don't, then -- God, I don't know. How did we even get on this topic?"

He looked back determinedly at the road in front of them, watching the pavement slip out of view under the hood of the Tahoe as the large vehicle manoeuvred slowly up the long stretch of highway.

He heard her settle back down into her seat and give a tiny, unassuming cough as she reopened the magazine. 75 Crazy-Hot Sex Moves. _Dammit_.

"Look, Booth! We should take this quiz."

He groaned inwardly. "Alright, what is it?"

"It's for partners."

"Bones, you realize that means for _couples, _right?"

"Not necessarily. Quizzes are an excellent way of acquiring information, and I don't think it's limited to sexual partners. The results could be very informative."

He looked at her with his best attempt at skepticism but she had already procured a pen from her purse and was eagerly sitting up, biting her lip slightly as she studied each question.

"Alright. 'When you introduced him to your closest friends, he said…' What did you say when you met everyone for the first time, Booth?"

"I'm not sure. Probably something to do with them being squints. That's all I can remember."

She set down her pen for a moment and glanced at him sternly. "Booth, I realize that you're frustrated that we're stuck in traffic because you want to get home and go out for dinner with another woman, but it would be helpful if you had a positive attitude about this."

Another woman. The moment those words had left her lips everything else she said had lost its importance, and they glanced at each other uncertainly, time seeming to pause as she took in the way his jaw clenched and the way his fingers toyed uneasily with his tie.

"Um -- how about 'Nice to meet you, with a big smile' -- does that seem right?"

He cleared his throat, suddenly wishing he could take out his lighter or his poker chip to keep his mind occupied on something other than the way the sunlight framed her face in a soft glow, making her eyes seem even more brilliant and blue than before.

"Yeah, that's fine, Bones."

"Hmm … I really don't know how to answer this one, Booth."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "There are three options. 'Your man is most like Tom Cruise in, A, Top Gun, Sometimes you're chasing him and sometimes he's chasing you…"

Booth tried hard not to laugh at the sound of Dr. Brennan saying the phrase 'your man,' but he managed to stay attentive.

"B, Jerry Maguire, He had you at hello, but you're still unsure about how he feels, or C, Vanilla Sky, You're his Penelope Cruz -- he'd risk everything for you."

They both simultaneously shouted 'C', only briefly considering the other options. His words echoed through her head as she read the next question; _I would die for you, I would kill for you…_

"A few of these I really don't have to ask," she said quietly, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to keep his eyes focused on the road. "You ask him to accompany you to a tedious activity, what's his response? Of course, 'Just tell me when and where.' I really appreciate that, Booth. And how many nights a week does he 'hang out' with you, I can't even answer that -- the highest number is only four, and I'm fairly certain we spend more time together than that."

_Although apparently, it's strictly for work,_ she thought.

"I like this question. 'Does he ever surprise you with thoughtful little gifts?' Of course you do."

Booth grinned unabashedly at the thought of Brainy Smurf and Jasper, and then of the bobble-head bobby that was sitting on his desk in the office, which barely grazed the surface of the sentimental gifts they had given each other. They were more than just objects_._

Her quiet 'oh' shook him from his thoughts.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing," she replied, but when he looked more closely he could have sworn she was blushing the tiniest bit.

"C'mon, tell me," he pleaded, and she stared at him intently for a moment before replying.

"Well, the question asks, 'In bed, does he make an effort to discover all your secret hot spots.' I obviously can't answer that question. "

He could feel his heart racing and he wondered if it was audible from where she was sitting, but he could tell she was nearly as flustered as he was.

She hurriedly closed the magazine and jammed it back into her purse, slouching back into her seat. She ran one hand nervously through her hair as she watched the mediocre scenery outside her window, but she could feel his gaze on her once again, and it made her shiver.

"I thought you hated slouching. And people who slouch."

She whipped her head around at the sound of his voice. "What?"

"Never mind."

"No, I head you. You're right, actually. Bad posture causes intervertebral disk damage, especially for someone like you, with a history of back pain-"

"Exactly."

Brennan was certainly confused by this point. "What do you mean?"

Booth hesitated, glancing back at the road again. They had finally reached suburbia, on their way back to the city, and driving through the smaller streets required a considerable amount more concentration than the highway had.

"Bones," he said, finally choosing to pull the Tahoe over to the side of the road, where he put it into park. When he finally turned so that he could speak to her properly, she was still surveying him coolly from her seat.

"You know every possible thing there is to know about me," he began, his voice low and calculated, trying not to back down now that he had come so far in admittance. "And, if you don't mind me saying so, I know you pretty damn well."

"Of course you do," she said, trying to stay calm despite the fact that her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. Whatever it was he had to say, it was something important, something substantial, and she could not wait to put the feelings running through her mind into perspective. "We're partners."

He shook his head, "That's what I mean, Bones. What we have is not simply just a partnership. Like I said, we know _everything_, except that one tiny detail you could not answer in that quiz."

"Whether you make an effort…"

_In bed_, she thought; she simply could not bring herself to admit the words to him, although she knew that what he had said was true. She had known for years.

"But do you want to know, Booth?"

Jesus Christ. Was she seriously asking that question? He focused on her to the best of his ability, although it suddenly became very difficult to concentrate.

"You're supposed to be going out with someone tonight."

"_Another woman._ I know."

She paused, regained her composure and then continued, "Why?"

He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or to cry.

"Why!?" he echoed, incredulously. "Bones, the same reason you went out with Hacker. And slept with every other man you've dated since I've known you. I don't want to be with anyone else, but it's the only alternative. I can't be alone anymore. I can't."

Silent electricity filled the car, filling them both with heady tension.

"Neither can I," she whispered.

Booth looked at her then, his dark eyes unable to take in anything else but the complete, peaceful surrender that was Temperance Brennan.

"Bones," he said, the husky tone of his voice sending a wave of heat through her, "I want you, all of you. To answer your question, yes, I do want to know _everything_ about you. I always have."

She gazed at him intently, and nodded. It was all she could do. Any words that she could have said would have never left her lips, because her voice was too choked with emotion to speak. But all of the love and devotion he ever needed was there in her eyes, and it took his breath away.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved in closer, unbuckling hers as well as he took her into his arms, smiling like a complete idiot but too happy to care. She laughed too, as her hands clutched his broad shoulders, feeling a kind of wholeness she had definitely missed.

She pulled away slightly, leaving the heat of him behind, and his expression darkened at the look in her eyes, something feral and slightly intimidating in its intensity. And then her lips slanted across his in a kiss that made it nearly impossible to breathe; he hesitated for a moment, almost unsure of how to react, but the quiet moan she elicited from the completeness of the entire situation made it real and suddenly, he understood the enormity of what was happening.

He kissed her deeper, harder, his entire body pressing her against her seat as her mouth opened to him and his lips moved against hers, slowly and deliberately, her tongue slipping into his mouth, and he groaned.

It was incredible, exactly as she remembered from the mistletoe and yet with an intensity she never could have imagined.

When he suddenly felt as though he would faint and colours started to swim in front of her eyes, they finally pulled apart, both of them grinning wildly.

"Thai sounds good," he said, completely nonchalant.

"Cosmopolitan sounds _better,_" she countered, and his heart nearly stopped.


End file.
